As Crawford had promised, it had been a routine mission, and that's just
what Schuldrich had expected. The telepath had learned to listen carefully
to what his leader said; the American often gave away hints of what was
going to happen subconsciously.
The telepath grinned; the American was nothing if predictable. After a mission, the man would always head into his office, a room locked off to his teammates always. No exceptions. Tonight was going to be the night. Schuldrich always expected that Crawford reminisced when he was alone, the proof lay in that his shields would always flicker slightly. He grinned. Thinking about the past always left a path to what you once were, and this time, he was going to find out exactly what he wanted to know.
Tonight, Schuldrich, was going to meet Brad. Weather Crawford liked it or not.
The red head settled down comfortably on his bed, he wanted to be comfortable for what could turn out to be a long haul. Slipping past any defense was hard, but it was going to be especially grueling considering the thickness of the shields that surrounded the enigma called Bradley Crawford.
To a telepath, the mind has almost two layers of communication style. The first layer is basically just like talking on a telephone, all surface thoughts and only voices, the other, set deep down was more physical. And harder to get to. Corridors, a long, twisting hallway filled with doors, some locked, and some not, and an experienced telepath (i.e. Schuldrich) could walk through, looking for what he wanted. This, was what he was going to attempt.
There, there was the telltale flutter of shields, minute, but there. Taking this opportunity, the German quickly pushed in, hoping that he was too fast to be noticed. No such luck. He had managed to get to the corridor level, but he saw Crawford storming angrily towards him. Meeping, he ran through the darkness, with sinister footsteps ringing out behind him.
The chase was on, Schuldrich's mental self ran from Crawford's, taking random twists and turns, only sparing a few glances on some open doors. He came to a dead end.
"Shit…" he swore looking around. Suddenly, an unnoticed door opened and a pale hand pulled him inside and shut just as Crawford's white suited representation stormed past.
The winded German collapsed to his knees, gaining back his breath. Absently, he noted that the floors were hardwood, with white and blue braided rugs. A concerted voice came quietly from beside him.
"Are you alright?" Schuldrich looked up and found himself locking gazes with soft, golden eyes, framed by unobtrusive round glasses. He instinctively knew that he had achieved his goal. He had found…
"Brad?"
The boy, no man nodded. Brad appeared to be around 19 or 20; he wore white, loose turtleneck sweater and black jeans.
"Hello Schuldrich." His voice was still soft, naturally so, much less sharp or harsh then Crawford's was. Schuldrich smiled and stood up, brushing himself off. He looked around, the room seemed to be a one-room apartment, and the window opened to a slightly less then spectacular view of a city skyline, marred only by the Eiffel tower.
"Jeez, I didn't know you lived in Paris." The red head said in wonder. There was a lot he didn't know. Brad nodded.
"I moved here from America when I was 15…I …I always like it here." He said with a sad smile. "Please...sit… you must be a bit tired." Running his hands through slightly longish droopy black hair, he nodded towards a simple couch. "Why…are you here?" he asked curiously after they both had sat down. Schuldrich laughed.
"I was curious, I've only seen you for a split second. I wanted to know, who you are, not just Crawford." Brad looked down, scuffing his feet against the floor slightly.
"I'm not that important." he said with out looking up. Oh this was too cute, Schuldrich thought to himself, Braddykins is shy. He was going to have fun with this…
The telepath grinned; the American was nothing if predictable. After a mission, the man would always head into his office, a room locked off to his teammates always. No exceptions. Tonight was going to be the night. Schuldrich always expected that Crawford reminisced when he was alone, the proof lay in that his shields would always flicker slightly. He grinned. Thinking about the past always left a path to what you once were, and this time, he was going to find out exactly what he wanted to know.
Tonight, Schuldrich, was going to meet Brad. Weather Crawford liked it or not.
The red head settled down comfortably on his bed, he wanted to be comfortable for what could turn out to be a long haul. Slipping past any defense was hard, but it was going to be especially grueling considering the thickness of the shields that surrounded the enigma called Bradley Crawford.
To a telepath, the mind has almost two layers of communication style. The first layer is basically just like talking on a telephone, all surface thoughts and only voices, the other, set deep down was more physical. And harder to get to. Corridors, a long, twisting hallway filled with doors, some locked, and some not, and an experienced telepath (i.e. Schuldrich) could walk through, looking for what he wanted. This, was what he was going to attempt.
There, there was the telltale flutter of shields, minute, but there. Taking this opportunity, the German quickly pushed in, hoping that he was too fast to be noticed. No such luck. He had managed to get to the corridor level, but he saw Crawford storming angrily towards him. Meeping, he ran through the darkness, with sinister footsteps ringing out behind him.
The chase was on, Schuldrich's mental self ran from Crawford's, taking random twists and turns, only sparing a few glances on some open doors. He came to a dead end.
"Shit…" he swore looking around. Suddenly, an unnoticed door opened and a pale hand pulled him inside and shut just as Crawford's white suited representation stormed past.
The winded German collapsed to his knees, gaining back his breath. Absently, he noted that the floors were hardwood, with white and blue braided rugs. A concerted voice came quietly from beside him.
"Are you alright?" Schuldrich looked up and found himself locking gazes with soft, golden eyes, framed by unobtrusive round glasses. He instinctively knew that he had achieved his goal. He had found…
"Brad?"
The boy, no man nodded. Brad appeared to be around 19 or 20; he wore white, loose turtleneck sweater and black jeans.
"Hello Schuldrich." His voice was still soft, naturally so, much less sharp or harsh then Crawford's was. Schuldrich smiled and stood up, brushing himself off. He looked around, the room seemed to be a one-room apartment, and the window opened to a slightly less then spectacular view of a city skyline, marred only by the Eiffel tower.
"Jeez, I didn't know you lived in Paris." The red head said in wonder. There was a lot he didn't know. Brad nodded.
"I moved here from America when I was 15…I …I always like it here." He said with a sad smile. "Please...sit… you must be a bit tired." Running his hands through slightly longish droopy black hair, he nodded towards a simple couch. "Why…are you here?" he asked curiously after they both had sat down. Schuldrich laughed.
"I was curious, I've only seen you for a split second. I wanted to know, who you are, not just Crawford." Brad looked down, scuffing his feet against the floor slightly.
"I'm not that important." he said with out looking up. Oh this was too cute, Schuldrich thought to himself, Braddykins is shy. He was going to have fun with this…